


Green Magic

by HawkSong



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23762032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkSong/pseuds/HawkSong
Summary: Berylla has returned to Ishgard from the Great Library, just before leaving for Azys Lla. Y'Shtola is in Berylla's room...
Relationships: Y'shtola Rhul/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 31





	Green Magic

The bells tolled the hour, and Y'Shtola leaned up against the wall of the Forgotten Knight by the door, waiting. She felt Berylla coming before she could see her – the big warrior's aether was normally far more controlled, but with so much alcohol in her, that simply wasn't the case. If she'd been a fellow conjurer, Y'Shtola would have chided her for risking others nearby...

If she could have, she would have kept Berylla back in the manor to begin with. Ever since learning from Alphinaud even the basics of the things that had transpired during her absence, she was a little worried about her friend. Berylla put on a tough show, and would be mortified to know that anyone had any inkling of how damaged and vulnerable she really was in certain ways.

She wasn't handling things half as well as she wanted others to believe. Alphinaud, inexperienced as he was – and half blinded by his infatuation with the Warrior of Light – hadn't seen just how badly off-balance Berylla was.

Even in the brief examination she'd performed on the warrior earlier had revealed wounds not quite healed, and the signs were clear that she was still far more exhausted than she admitted. A single day of plain rest simply wasn't good enough.

Y'Shtola had ideas about what would help – a far more direct application of her healing magic than she would usually contemplate. Berylla being somewhat drunk would only aid the process, lowering her defenses as it had. What the conjurer had in mind wouldn't hurt Y'Shtola any either...

She shifted a little, aware of the warming of her own body as need reawakened.

The door opened, and Berylla stepped out into the chill night air. Her step was firm, her eyes clear, and in all outward signs she seemed quite sober. But Y'Shtola knew her, and felt her aether, and knew otherwise.

Berylla blinked down at her friend. “Shtola?”

“Come,” the Miqote conjurer beckoned. “I'll walk home with you.”

“You're s'posed to be sleeping.”

“Aye, and I did sleep.”

Berylla's grin was impish. “Don't tell me you just had a cat nap.”

Y'Shtola's ears flicked, and her tail lashed once. “Such an old joke,” she grumbled, but Berylla laughed anyway. Honestly, the woman had the worst taste in humor at times.

“Come on.” She turned and started walking, and Berylla followed.

“You worry too much about me,” the big Roe woman complained. “As bad as Alphinaud, you are.”

“I hardly think that's a fair comparison,” Y'Shtola commented, “since after all I know you far better than he does. And I'm a good deal more mature, I should hope.”

Berylla grunted in reply.

They didn't speak again until they'd reached the manor. Then, in the hall, Berylla balked. “I can...get a different spot to sleep.”

“Oh, do stop being an idiot,” Y'Shtola told her, and opened the door to the bedroom.

Berylla stepped inside, and the leaned against the door for a moment. “It's not a very big bed,” she mumbled, regarding the furniture in question, blankets drawn down almost completely. Y'Shtola hadn't bothered making the bed back up when she had risen to seek out her friend.

Y'Shtola reached around and locked the door. “Doesn't matter. On the bed with you.”

She thought she heard Berylla grumble something under her breath, but her speech was too slurred now for be sure just what she had said.

Once Berylla was sitting on the bed, Y'Shtola approached her, eyes narrowed a little. She slid her hands under the red bolero, tugging it off and tossing it to the floor. Berylla stared at her. “What're you doin'?”

“Examining you,” Y'Shtola answered. She knew how Berylla was when drunk. At this point she'd had enough that she would barely remember anything about the night's events – but she was also extremely biddable in this state. Which was how Y'Shtola wanted her, tonight.

“You looked me over already,” Berylla mumbled. But she didn't move away from Y'Shtola's hands as the conjurer touched her again.

Soft palms rubbed across firm muscles. “You hurt so much,” Y'Shtola whispered. “Too much, my friend. Let me soothe you.”

Berylla's eyes shut. “Thought I needed sleep.”

“Sleep without nightmares,” Y'Shtola murmured, “and relaxation before that. Doesn't that sound like a good idea?”

“Hm. Yeah.”

Y'Shtola leaned in and pressed her lips to Berylla's, very softly. The Roe opened her eyes and looked into the conjurer's face.

“Share pleasure with me, Berylla.”

A soft “oh” seeped from the big woman, and she swayed forward a tiny bit, just enough to bring their lips together once more.

Y'Shtola pressed her advantage, darting her tongue inside Berylla's mouth, tasting both the beer and the sadness. She let her aether swirl out in a little curl of power, entangling with the warrior's own energy. Her augmented vision let her see even with eyes shut, and she could see the tendril of her power – silvery-green with a hint of sea blue sparkling through it. And Berylla's was almost like a cloud around her, a strange dark color, like ripe plums. Normally the woman's aether remained beneath a crystal-hard shield, matching her skin so closely that most people could even be fooled that there was nothing special about her...but not tonight. Tonight, that crystalline skin was crazed and cracked, stressed nearly to the point of breaking.

Y'Shtola pulled back just enough to shrug out of her tunic. Clever Tataru had designed it to look more complicated than it was, and in this moment Y'Shtola blessed that. The air was cool across her skin as she dropped the tunic to the ground, and she pressed herself against Berylla's chest, nipples already hardening.

Berylla's hands came up and lay flat against her back. She opened her mouth, but Y'Shtola didn't give her the chance to speak. She covered the warrior's mouth with another, hungry kiss.

 _Don't think_ , she whispered, using only her aether. _Don't resist me. We both need this_.

She felt Berylla's breath hitch, felt her shiver, and saw her aether coil outward. Quickly she snared those dark coils with her own light and pulled it in, plaiting the dark and the light together.

Berylla moaned very softly, and slowly her hand slid around to cup Y'Shtola's breast.

The touch made Y'Shtola suck in a breath, and she nipped at Berylla's bottom lip, very gently. Her own hands kneaded the muscles of the warrior's shoulders, and she raised one knee, pressing it against Berylla's most sensitive spot.

Berylla clutched at her and gasped. Y'Shtola leaned back a little, and saw to her surprise that Berylla looked at her with something almost like fear. Stabbing uncertainty echoed along the connection of their aether.

“You've never done this?” Y'Shtola whispered.

“No...” The big Roe swallowed hard. “I don't wanna hurt you. You're so...small.”

Y'Shtola's head fell back as she laughed. Then she curled herself in a little, letting her fangs drag across the skin just under Berylla's jaw. “Oh, my dear,” she crooned, “I promise, you won't hurt me in the slightest.”

“I d-don't know how to,” Berylla began, her voice shaking. Y'Shtola stopped her with another kiss.

“Hush.” Her voice and her aether pinned the warrior in place. “I know how, and I'll show you.”

Berylla's aether tangled itself up further in her own, and longing like a spike of pain-turned-pleasure made them _both_ gasp.

After that, neither of them spoke. The merest nudge of fingers, a murmur of pleasure, a hint of pressure from their entwined aether, and clothes seemed to melt away, bodies twined closer.

They stretched out on the bed, and Berylla leaned up on one arm, her fingers tracing delicately along Y'Shtola's belly, her eyes intent on the conjurer's face. Watched, as her fingers dipped lower, seeking the heat and the wetness that she knew would be there. Watched, as she found what she sought and Y'Shtola's eyes shut, her body shuddering.

She slipped her finger in and out, marveling at the slickness, the quivering muscles, fascinated by the way Y'Shtola's breath hitched, the faint whine as she bit her lip.

 _More_ , the conjurer's aether whispered, and Berylla eased a second finger inside. The slick walls clenched, and she hesitated, watching for any hint of discomfort.

Y'Shtola moaned and ground against her, legs spreading, tail tapping against Berylla's shoulder, her every motion begging. _Don't stop_.

Berylla's breath huffed from her as she obeyed that wordless urging. She leaned over the smaller woman, and slipped three fingers into her clenching wetness even as she claimed the conjurer's mouth in a deep kiss.

Y'Shtola's hands clawed at Berylla's shoulders as she keened, deep in her throat. Her aether shuddered and expanded, even as her body tightened hard. Her tail thudded against Berylla's shoulder and back. With incredible swiftness, she was coming hard on the warrior's hand, crying out into Berylla's mouth, her nails breaking the skin.

Slowly Berylla withdrew from her, and then raised herself, looking down into silver eyes.

“It was okay?” She whispered.

Y'Shtola's laugh was breathless. “More than okay,” she murmured. Then she pressed herself against the warrior, sliding her knee between the hard muscles of Berylla's thighs, pushing against the strong shoulders. “On your back,” she ordered, her voice still soft.

Berylla lay back, watching silently as Y'Shtola wriggled around until she'd reversed herself.

But when Y'Shtola's fingers caressed the damp folds between Berylla's thighs, the warrior's eyes shut tight and she groaned.

Y'Shtola grinned a little, and kissed the top of Berylla's mound, eliciting another groan of pure lust. Their aether still twined together, and as she softly slipped three fingers inside the big Roe, her own body shuddered with reaction just the same as Berylla's did.

Her tail flicked across the warrior's face, but Berylla seemed to barely register it as Y'Shtola thrust and twisted her fingers, expertly gliding across the flesh in just the _exact_ spot.

A wordless cry broke from Berylla's throat, and her body bucked a little, almost as if she would throw the smaller woman off of her. Y'Shtola straddled her ribs and tapped into her power, allowing healing energies to ride along the silvery-green tendrils of her aether, already so very tangled up with Berylla's plum-purple essence.

She felt her tail gripped as Berylla's hands clutched at her rear and her thighs, fumbling, desperate, gloriously moaning. She allowed it, arching her back, inviting.

Meanwhile her energy soaked into the warrior's aether, sinking beneath the skin, then beyond mere physical hurts into the deeper healing that her friend so desperately needed.

Her eyes closed as she concentrated, her fingers steadily stroking, her lips opening and her tongue seeking that miniature spire of pleasure, hiding in soft, fragrant folds of flesh.

Berylla cried out again, her body quaking. Y'Shtola could feel her heaving for breath, ribs expanding and contracting between her thighs in a ragged rhythm. “I can't, I can't...oh gods...Shtola...”

The conjurer's tongue fluttered against Berylla's clitoris, and then she set her lips around it, and sucked.

Berylla made a sound unlike anything Y'Shtola had heard before, a strangled shriek of pure pleasure. Juices gushed around her still-stroking fingers, and the heady scent filled her senses. The conjurer feasted and lapped, as the woman beneath her trembled.

Even when Berylla began to cry, Y'Shtola didn't stop. She did let up with her tongue, the better to concentrate on what her magic was doing to and for the warrior. Her own cheeks were damp, as sympathetic tears mingled with Berylla's fluids.

Her magic found pain, grief, and a yawning void of emptiness that defied Y'Shtola's understanding. She could soothe the recent hurts, the lingering aches – take the edge off. Nothing more. That aching, _blank_ place in Berylla's soul swallowed her power the way the open ocean swallowed the sunlight, the way a deep cavern seemed to simply devour even the strongest lantern's glow.

_Oh, my friend, what has happened to you?_

But Berylla didn't – or couldn't – answer her. Incredibly, the warrior's essence began to withdraw, to actively push Y'Shtola's power away. It wasn't a violent sort of action, but a gentle taking-back; and even as Y'Shtola opened her eyes, she felt Berylla's aether close itself off, diving back beneath her skin, only the merest tendrils remaining to mingle with the conjurer's own aether.

Before she could articulate any sort of response to that astonishing retreat, she felt something else entirely.

Berylla's fingers, moving against her entrance.

She gasped a little as she realized that – with no knowledge of conjury whatever – the warrior was _imitating_ what Y'Shtola had just done. Those little threads of dark-purple aether weren't as strong as what the conjurer had poured into the other woman – but they were potent enough to bring her body's needs into full cry with but a single stroke of those long, strong fingers.

“By the Twelve,” she whispered, and then she was lost to sensation.

She arched, raising her hips and grinding herself against Berylla, her own hands faltering in the rhythm she'd been maintaining. She lowered her head and clamped her mouth to Berylla's sex, clutching at the hard thighs and plundering the hot, wet depths with her tongue.

Berylla let out a mewl, her breath hot against Y'Shtola's thighs, and responded in kind. Awkward as her motions were, the feel of her tongue still made Y'Shtola's whole body shudder with delight. Her hips moved without her conscious direction, pleading, grinding her clitoris against that mouth.

Finally Berylla fluttered her tongue tip against the sensitive flesh and Y'Shtola cried out. The sound seemed to galvanize Berylla, and with sudden ferocity she clamped her hands on Y'Shtola's hips and attacked her with lips and tongue until once more the conjurer reached the peak. Even as Berylla lapped up the delectable juices, her own body began to shudder, and she too came, groaning, clutching the smaller woman.

Finally they both went still, and slowly Y'Shtola rolled off Berylla, and crawled back up the bed. They shared a gentle kiss, but Berylla's eyes were already drifting shut, and by the time Y'Shtola had dragged the blankets up over them both, the warrior was fast asleep, with the hint of a smile on her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was in part inspired and enabled by  
> Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club  
> Please come and join if you've a mind to do so!
> 
> https://discord.gg/8C6ZKTj


End file.
